


The Epic Wedding Crash And An Idiot Veela In Denial

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bonding, Claiming, M/M, Pining, creaturefic, veeladraco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Harry starts shagging with Malfoy, and really, that can not be a good idea, or so everyone tells him. Harry isn't sure whether he agrees with them fervently or fervently disagrees, though he's leaning towards the latter.//Completed//Word count: 8k
Relationships: Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 13
Kudos: 286





	The Epic Wedding Crash And An Idiot Veela In Denial

**Author's Note:**

> aghh i just love a veeladraco fic! i love creaturefics in general!  
i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did!  
thanks for the support! :3
> 
> *btw: this fic used to be titled 'On The Wings Of Love' but i've changed the title to 'The Epic Wedding Crash And An Idiot Veela In Denial' however, asides from that nothing else is changed*

Shagging with Malfoy is an incredibly bad idea, Harry's friends told him after the fifth time he had Malfoy's cock up his arse.

After they learned Malfoy was a full-blooded Veela, they fervently affirmed their views, repeating on a frenzied loop how much of a terrible idea it was.

Staring down into his tumbler of scotch, chest bleeding with three deep gashes slicing across from shoulder to opposite hip, Harry could safely say they had been right.

He downed his drink in one swallow, not bothering to tend to his mangled chest. It hurt like a bitch, but then, everything else did. Especially his heart. Harry scowled and refilled his glass. He heard his Floo ringing, but didn't bother getting up from his kitchen table, too lethargic to do anything but wait for whoever had come to visit him to step into his kitchen. He had pants on, his torn shirt laying on the floor by his feet, his chest and chair and floor dripping with blood. The gashes Malfoy inflicted were deep, cutting well into muscle, but Harry still didn't move.

Hermione stepped into his kitchen, and dropped her bag when she saw him, gasping loudly.

"Oh my _god_ Harry, _who_ did this to you?!"

He threw back his drink, eyes dark:

"Me. I did this to myself." He shouldn't have ever told Malfoy he fell in love along the way, after all.

"What? You--How--?" She was already a flurry of movement, wand drawn as she summoned various medical supplies, dropping to her knees in front of him, putting a damp washcloth to his chest, gently wiping the blood away, ignoring his wincing. "You _idiot_\--How-?" She mumbled again, gasping even more upon discovering just how _deep _the wounds went. 

Harry didn't respond, but she didn't wait for a response, vanishing the blood from his floor and chair while she dragged him up: 

"Harry this is so deep we need to get you to St.Mungos right _away_! You could get infected, _what_ were you thinking?!" 

Harry still didn't respond, just shrugging one shoulder as the sickness of Apparition washed over him.

~

After he was meticulously stitched up and left in a room to recover, Hermione was at his side at once, accompanied by Ron, both looking between worried sick and furious. Ron was staring at the fifty or so stitches per gash with horror on his face.

"What the bloody hell happened to you mate?" He mumbled at length, when Harry still didn't offer any explanation. He didn't want to tell them, really didn't want to talk about it at all.

"Nothing, I was reckless, and injured myself. Nothing terribly new for me, is it?" He replied finally, carefully skirting the issue.

"Harry. Those gashes were clean and deep, like..like something with _talons_ inflicted them. You aren't fooling anyone here young man." Hermione cut him off coldly.

Harry shrugged. He was aware of this:

"I know." 

He didn't tell them anything else, no matter how much they pressed, and eventually the Healer who'd stitched him up hurried them out of the room, informing Harry he'd spend a night with them, because he'd lost a lot of blood, so he'd need to be monitored. Harry just nodded mutely and lied back onto the bed. He closed his eyes, falling asleep from exhaustion.

~

_"What would you tell someone if they told you they were in love with you?" Harry stretched, wincing at the fresh burn in his arse as he lay next to Malfoy._

_"I'd tell them they are incredibly stupid." Malfoy replied immediately, rolling his gray eyes._

_"Right." Harry swallowed thickly._

_"Why?" Malfoy turned to appraise him, eyes narrowed, but Harry didn't reply, he just stared up at the ceiling, half shrugging:_

_"Just curious." He mumbled at length, praying he sounded casual enough. _

_He didn't._

_Malfoy's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before he stood, and dressed quietly, shoulders shaking with suppressed fury. Harry followed him, managing to get his pants and trousers on before Malfoy turned on him, face twisted into an angry sneer:  
_

_"You're a fucking idiot Potter. An incredibly daft, stupid prat."_

_Harry shrugged, not really having a reply. _

_"Did you ever really think---?" Malfoy trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course you did, you dumb oaf. You think everyone is so infatuated with your holiness--" He cut himself off, exhaling raggedly. "You have no place in my life Potter. You're nothing more than a fun fuck and I truly feel sorry for you if you ever really thought there could ever be anything more to it, though you'd be the stupid enough cuck to think so."_

_"Calm down Draco--" Harry tried, but Malfoy's eyes flashed hatefully and his body bent, transforming into the birdlike form of a Veela, wings growing out of his slender back, his body covered with feathers here and there, nose stretching into a beak, hands curling into talons, though he retained a vaguely human form of standing upright with four limbs. Harry gulped. It was the first time he'd seen Malfoy actually transform, and didn't have time to react when a taloned hand came cutting into his chest, slicing him open from his left shoulder to his right hip. Harry cried out and fell backwards, wheezing as flashes of white hot pain danced behind his vision, blood gushing from the three wounds. By the time he looked up, Malfoy was gone, a few feathers on the floor only indication he'd ever really been there._

Harry woke up with a start.

~

After he was discharged from Mungos, with strict instructions not to put too much strain on himself for a full bloody month, he went straight home and continued drinking. Apparently, attacks from magical creatures were difficult to heal, especially those from Veelas. They barely managed to suture him shut, and were very clear on making sure his stitches didn't pop, because if they did, they might not be able to heal him again in time. Harry listened with half an ear, grimacing at the image of himself after Malfoy had left, standing up on shaky legs and peering into the full length mirror he had in his room. He felt disgusted at his wound, skin flayed open and drooping, blood everywhere, his muscle tissue cut through. He hadn't the faintest clue how strong Malfoy was, but he sure as hell had never hoped to find out like _this._

He downed another drink, chasing the memories away with the bitter burn of alcohol, hand distractedly fluttering over his hurting chest. The wound ached and throbbed, though he was able to drown it out with Ogden's. He was able to drown most of everything out really.

Except the hateful yells from not a few hours ago. They seemed persistent on swirling through his mind with more and more force the more he drank.

Malfoy really did know how to pack a punch.

~

When Draco made it back into his own flat, it had finally hit him what he'd done. He'd transformed back into his human self by now and stared horrified down at his bloody hands. The blood that wasn't his. _Potter's blood._

He hurried stripped and hopped into the shower, scrubbing himself raw under the too hot spray, mind mercifully blank for the time being.

It would only hit him later, on his third glass of wine, that he'd maimed Potter, and left him to bleed out. 

Even still, he couldn't force himself to go back to the other man, didn't think he'd be of much help if he had to look at the wounds he'd inflicted.

~

It took maybe a week, if that, for Draco's body to start demanding Potter again. Every passing moment, his traitorous mind would conjure up images of Potter, flushed and naked beneath Draco, mumbling incoherently while Draco fucked him, would remind Draco of the beautiful groans and whimpers Potter would make, would starkly recall how he tasted of chocolate and smelled of pine, nearly driving Draco insane with a raw primal need swiping through him.

He'd wanked himself raw, angrily pulling himself off and yet nothing was enough, though he'd known it wouldn't be.

It had to be Potter, though Draco didn't dare think of that. There was nothing to be done _now_ anyways, so he settled for pulling at bars, even that wasn't enough to quell the hunger.

There was a constant itch under his skin, a want roiling in his stomach, and he knew only Potter could soothe it away, because no matter what he'd said and tried to convince himself of, it was glaringly obvious he was mated to Potter, despite how much Draco wished it wasn't so.

And he'd maimed and left the bastard.

The nights were really the worst. All he ever seemed to dream about was Potter, always waking up hot and hard, though he couldn't find any relief. 

Every day felt as if he was burning alive, every part of him fervently wishing for Potter, nothing able to dissuade it, not even the knowledge he could never really have him again.

It was driving him mental.

And had his need remained purely physical, Draco might've been able to tolerate it, to learn to live with it, _but_, it wasn't.

More often than he'll ever admit, he found Potter's smile floating around his mind, his laugh ringing in his ears, the softness his entire body would retain when Draco played with his hair.

It wasn't _fair_ how much he missed him, how _badly_ he needed him back.

~

A few weeks later of Draco going off the twist trapped within his burning desperation, his mother had tentatively brought up marrying Astoria Greengrass, as she always had in the past, expecting Draco to refuse like he always had. He wasn't interested in a marriage alliance, in getting married off for the sake of politics. But by now, he had well and truly lost his mind, felt hollow, so he'd mindlessly agreed, finding it pointless to resist anymore. Before he was hopeful he'd find someone to love and had refused each time for the sake of it, but now that he'd found him, he'd chased him away, so there was really no reason to hold it off anymore. To say his mother was overjoyed would be an understatement, but Draco didn't have it in him to share in her joy, the mere thought of Astoria revolting him so.

After an exchange with the Greengrass family, the plans for their wedding commenced at once, and Draco wasn't sure what was worse: the fact he had lost his mate or the fact he would be binding himself to someone he didn't not only love but didn't even remotely want. The mere idea of touching Astoria made him feel like throwing up. 

His mother had valiantly attempted to include him in the wedding plans, to get him interested in Astoria, but nothing she did or said could capture him in any way. All he could think about was Potter, and everything that accompanied him. The melodic laugh, the bright smile, his fucking green eyes, messy hair--He shuddered when a ripple of arousal shot through him. He could taste Potter on his tongue still, scowling not for the first time at himself and what he'd done to him. He only prayed Potter had made it out. Draco didn't think he wouldn't drop dead on the spot if he read in the paper one day that Potter had died. A Veela rarely recovered from the death of their mate. Knowing it was his fault would likely only make it a thousand times worse.

The months crawled by, excruciatingly slowly, Draco fervently burning up still, the wedding nearly planned, all that was left to handle the invitations. In a last ditch effort to involve him, Narcissa offered to lend him complete control of the invitations. Rejecting was on the tip of his tongue but then something struck him so quickly he'd furiously accepted and got to work. If he invited Potter...maybe he'd show? Draco's hopes weren't high for it, but he needed to just _see _him again so desperately he didn't care as he wrote the invitation and sent it off, gnawing on his lip anxiously.

~

Harry walked into his living room with his mail, the scars on his chest still aching, though less than before. He sifted through some fan letters and bills until a fancy cream envelope caught his eye. It was thick and heavy, the paper smooth and rich, a curious seal on it. It seemed distantly familiar, though he couldn't place it. He popped the seal and slid out another small piece of paper, eyes skimming over the cursive, loopy golden text, heart freezing in his throat.

_You have been invited to the wedding of _

_ Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass._

Harry stared at it for a few pitiful seconds, before huffing out a disbelieving scoff. The bastard actually went and did it. Draco had told him about his family's many attempts to arrange a marriage between him and the Greengrass girl, about how he always declined hoping he'd find someone to love on his own. And now, he actually _accepted_ it. _And_ invited Harry no less, the cruel satanic shit he was. Apparently maiming Harry wasn't enough, _no_, Draco really had to drive the splinter clean through Harry's heart, because that was just how cold he was. The raven scowled at the invitation, and was about to toss it into the flames, before something occurred to him. This could be a good way to send a major _'fuck you'_ to Draco. Show up to his fucking wedding to show him Harry had gotten over him, though he, emphatically, had _not._ Hadn't even tried. Had no hopes of _ever_ managing to forget him. 

He still hadn't told Hermione and Ron about what had _really_ happened to him, and they were worried sick over it, but he assured him it was all well. His stitches had been taken out, his scars three long pink stripes across his chest, freshly healed. He shook out the nerves from his hands and nodded firmly to himself.

He'd go, he'd decided, swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of watching Draco marry someone else.

~

Harry had roped Neville into being his plus one for the wedding, because Neville knew nothing of their situation, only Harry's closest friends knowing about their "relationship". Neville agreed after a bit of persuasion, for the sake of "putting the past behind them", though that was all bullshit, Harry had known but didn't say so to Nev. The less he knew, the better. Searching through his closet for something to wear was a task, since Harry didn't really own a lot of fancy suits, until his eyes landed on something that was absolutely perfect. It was a three piece suit Draco had bought him for his birthday last year, and really, what more perfect way to send his point across than show up to Draco's wedding in the suit Draco had bought him? Harry smiled and dressed, parting his hair to the side, letting the fringe fall into his eyes, his hair sweeping messily yet tamed just a little bit with the help of Sleazakay's. 

He met with Neville who laughed at seeing Harry all dressed up and they were off, apparating to Malfoy Manor for the ball preceeding the wedding ceremony. Harry winced once as the looming house came upon them, but he stubbornly swallowed and held his head up high as they entered alongside the other guests. He kept a polite smile on his face, Neville's arm lazily slung around his waist as they greeted the few people they knew and mingled in the huge hall of the Manor. Harry's eyes searched, of their own accord, for the head of shock white hair. 

It didn't take him long to spot Draco, standing next to Astoria, her arm curled around his, a smile plastered on his lips. Harry observed him, a pang in his heart, though he did not allow it to show on his face.

Then their eyes met, and Harry was amused to notice Draco stand stock still, paling considerably upon noticing him. Harry dipped his head in a little nod and turned away as if disinterested, starting a hushed conversation with Neville, keeping note of Draco's presence.

~

Oh god. Oh _god._

He came.

Draco wasn't ready for the wave of lust and want that washed over him the moment their eyes met. He thanked his lucky stars he wore a loose fitting robe, covering his obscene erection wonderfully. All it took was getting one look at Potter. He stood up straight, wearing the fucking suit Draco had bought him, a small endearing smile trapped on his lips as he gave Draco a single nod of acknowledgement and turned away as if nothing was wrong. As if Draco didn't want to tear the suit clean off of him.

_Gods, _he looked breathtaking.

His hair was tamed and parted off to the side, fringe falling into his eyes, Draco's fingers itching to swipe it away. His knees wobbled with the need surging violently through him and he gripped Astoria's arm just a little tighter, though the girl didn't seem to notice. She was just as disinterested in this marriage as he was. 

Next came an even stronger wave of jealousy, when he'd realized that Harry had come with someone, it was Longbottom if Draco was correct, who had an arm around Harry's waist. Draco felt sick seeing it, his instincts rearing their ugly head up, chanting loudly:

_Mine. How dare he touch him--_

He had to take a few deep breaths to chase away the altogether terrible urges to attack Longbottom, reminding himself he had no right to think or feel these things after what he'd done. Still, fact remained, Potter was his mate and hate it as much as he did, Draco felt incredibly possessive of this man that wasn't his, jealous to the brink of near madness that someone else was holding him instead of Draco.

Potter's eyes did not stray to him again, and Draco wished he'd look, at least once more. Instead, Harry was smiling casual little smiles at Longbottom, sipping on his glass of champagne leisurely, as if he hadn't a care in the world. Draco felt his wings pushing outwards, and clamped over the press, determined not to let them come out. A Veela's wings only came out for two reasons really: When they transformed and when they were incredibly aroused and needed to mate. Draco was terrified to realize it was the latter option and desperately scrabbled onto the little bits of self control he had, Potter's lips wrapped around the delicate flute of champagne not really helping much.

But then Potter and Longbottom were pushing through the crowd and heading straight towards Draco and Astoria, and Draco's stomach flipped as his mind whimpered at the rapidly lessening distance between them. 

Once Potter had come to stand right in front of Draco, the blonde could barely spare a single coherent thought, mind hazed with thick want while he was tempted to start chirping like a fucking songbird. It happened sometimes, chirping, to a Veela when their mate was close, especially after a prolonged separation. Draco pressed his lips tightly shut and swallowed convulsively, eyes glued to Potter the entire time.

"Hello, Malfoy, Astoria. Long time no see." He greeted, every bit polite and poised as ever and Draco barely managed a nod. Astoria smiled and shook Harry's hand, Neville uttering greetings under his breath. He didn't seem entirely comfortable being here, but Draco didn't pay him any mind.

"So I take it this _arrangement_ is political?" Potter asked, cocking a defiant eyebrow at Draco, whose cock was throbbing painfully.

"Yes, although I'm sure Draco and I will have a happy _marriage._" Astoria corrected politely, smile not wavering.

"I'd hardly call it a _marriage_." Potter remarked blithely. "Both parties must be interested for it to constitute as marriage."

"Of course we are interested. Right Draco?" She nudged him lightly with her elbow, but Draco didn't hear her.

All he could focus on was the purrlike quality of Potter's deep voice, the rich tone echoing through Draco's very bones. His mind slipped for a moment, lost in it, and he distantly heard gasps and the sound of tearing fabric as his wings violently unfurled from him, ripping through his robes and fluttering outwards, nearly knocking Astoria over.

There was a hush over the ballroom as Draco swallowed and righted himself, forcing his voice out:

"I apologize. I've been feeling a bit unwell is all. Please, enjoy yourselves." 

He chanced a glance at Harry who observed quietly with a knowing lilt to his head. He knew about the wings, of course, since they'd come out on more than a few nights when he had set to task of driving Draco mad with lust. 

As the attention slipped off him and conversation returned to the hall, Draco relaxed a bit, though Harry's proximity was clawing at him painfully, urging him closer, though his feet were frozen to the spot. Harry took another sip of wine, dutifully pretending to listen to Neville's conversation with Astoria as he amusedly took note of Draco's quiet panting, and the fluttering throb of his wings. He leaned in towards Draco imperceptibly, and murmured quietly to him, a feral smirk catching his expression:

"Are the wings out for me? I'm flattered. Good to know you're still so very responsive." 

Draco felt faint and he stumbled a step away from Potter, extricating himself from Astoria and muttering about feeling ill before he blindly stumbled out of the hall, his whole body feeling feverish. He couldn't do this, oh _gods, what _had he been thinking, agreeing? Of course he couldn't bloody do this, he wanted Harry, could only ever be happy having him, he wanted his _mate--_

Draco apparated away, unable to stand standing in his home a second longer while his _wedding _was being celebrated not a dozen feet away.

~

Harry braced well for the rest of the night after Draco had left, and he'd found it even manageable now that the blonde wasn't there, but it was the knowledge of what was yet to come that had him scowling in helpless heartbreak. 

He dreaded the moment it was announced and everyone was lead into the beautifully decorated hall with seats lining the aisle Astoria would walk down, looking pretty in her shimmering gown, to get married to his Draco. The man was never his, Harry knew, but he couldn't help but want to think of him as such. He forgave the scars, finding them a just punishment for what he'd once done to Draco. He took a seat and waited with grim anticipation.

Music started playing not long after, and Astoria walked down the aisle to wait for her groom, Harry's heart plummeting to his feet.

And so, they all waited. And waited. And _waited._

Draco wasn't appearing.

It wasn't long after everyone had come to the same conclusion that a house elf cracked in front of them:

"Master Draco is being disappeared." It notified them guiltily, before apparating away and then the hall burst into a frenzy. Narcissa and Lucius were frantically uttering orders to their house elves to go and find Draco, and the guests started whispering rumors, but a realization hit Harry stark and clear.

He _knew_ where Draco had gone.

He stood up quickly, drawing attention to himself:

"I know where he is. I'll go get him back." Before anyone had a chance to question him, he apparated.

~

Just as Harry had suspected, Draco was exactly where Harry had thought. It was a small clearing of woods close to his flat that he found comfort in and often ventured to to think and clear his head. He'd told Harry as much after fucking him silly once, and Harry knew that if there was one place he'd escape his own bloody wedding to, it would be here.

"You're becoming awfully predictable." Harry notified him, noticing the tenseness slide into his shoulders rapidly.

"Potter--" Draco breathed raggedly, not turning to face him.

"I've come to get you back. Come on." Harry waved his arm, and waited. He held himself together, determined to get this over with.

"I can't." Draco muttered. "I can't marry her."

"And that is none of my business, I'm just here to get you back to your confused guests and angry parents." Harry informed duly, voice cold.

"No, I can't do it Potter, I won't." Draco shook his head, finally turning around to look at Harry, eyes wide and pleading. "Don't take me back." He begged quietly and Harry's heart hurt:

"Look Draco, it's really none of my business, just come with me and at least _explain_ what the bloody fuck is wrong with you all of a sudden." 

"Do you want to know why?" Draco spoke quietly, looking for all the world as if he wanted Harry to say _yes_.

"It's none of my business." _Yes, damn you._

"But do you want to know?" Draco demanded again, drifting closer to Harry almost automatically.

"It doesn't matter whether I do or don't Draco, you've clearly informed me I have no place in your life." Harry bit. 

_You **are** my life._ Draco wished to tell him, to yell at him, to hold him, just _something_, but the words were caught in his throat, he couldn't speak, could hardly breathe anymore. Too much and not enough at the same time.

"Now come _on, _I don't have all day and neither do they." Harry snipped, and Draco gave up. He could hardly take it, the resentment in Harry's voice, so he just stepped closer and gripped Harry's arm, the relief crumpling over him at the contact in rivulets accompanied by slight nausea as Harry Side-Alonged him.

~

When they'd landed back in front of the Hall, Harry could _feel_ Draco trembling violently next to him, could _feel_ Draco's vice grip on his arm, and hated himself for loving him so much he was tempted to just forgive him everything and accept him back for better or for worse. A part of him wanted to be petty and pull away from Draco, but a bigger part of him needed to comfort him, so Harry just gently tugged him along to the crowd standing outside, waiting, Draco's steps halting as he went. Harry chewed on the inside of his cheek as Draco stepped closer to him.

"I got him." The raven choked out and everyone was rounding on them at once, making Harry swallow. 

"_What_ is the meaning of this Draco?" Lucius pushed to the front, slamming his cane into the ground, voice shrill with accusation. 

Draco winced and Harry had had enough. He knew Draco needed him now, and everything else could go fuck itself for the time being, because _dammit_ Harry was in love with him and if that didn't count for something nothing ever would. 

He pulled his arm out of Draco's grip, feeling the blonde grappling onto him again frantically, before Harry wrapped it around his waist, pulling him closer. Draco sagged against him, folding himself and tucking himself away into Harry, hands fisted in Harry's clothes while Harry tightened his hold.

"He won't be marrying Astoria." Harry spoke, hardening his voice and expression.

"_What?_" Lucius hissed, Narcissa stepping up to his side at once.

"You heard me. He will _not_ be marrying Astoria." Harry repeated low, Draco still trembling as he pressed into Harry, mindless by now. He was shaking like a leaf, and Harry brought up his free hand to unclench Draco's fist from his robes, instead grasping it tightly with his own, trying to comfort him any way he could.

"And just _why_ would you claim that Potter?" Lucius' cutting glare didn't intimidate Harry like it was meant to, instead only made him angrier.

"He won't marry her, because he _loves me._" He announced, stubbornly holding Lucius shocked gaze. "And I love him too." Draco whimpered into his neck, mouth working against the skin, though no words left him.

A charged silence descended, but Harry was paying it no mind, twisting around to hold Draco properly, enveloping him into his arms tightly, Draco brutally squeezing him, still buried into him, still shaking.

"D-Draco, is this _true?"_ Narcissa mumbled, looking stricken.

Draco couldn't respond to his mother, his entire world narrowed down to Harry's arms around him, to Harry's words, to his own need to press closer, _closer_, he just needed Harry so much and he couldn't string a thought together past it. His wings were still out, throbbing and fluttering, white feathers pooling at their feet. Harry slid one hand to pet them, and fold them against his back, rubbing them slowly, gently, and Draco wanted to fucking purr, it was so soothing, just his touch, him being there, oh_ gods_, Draco'll _die_ without him--

"Draco. Is it true?" He heard his mother repeated, voice firmer now. He took a deep breath, and unclenched his jaw to speak in a broken voice:

"Yes." He rasped, though it was as loud as a Sonorus in the thrumming silence.

Shocked gasps washed out through the crowd, but Harry was pressing Draco closer, ignoring the pain in his chest as he wound a hand into the blonde's hair. 

"If anyone, _anyone_, attempts to harm him because of this, I'll fucking _kill_ you and get away with it." Harry informed darkly, overcome with the need to protect his shaking blonde, his wings soft and fluttery beneath Harry's palm while his other carded through Draco's hair. "There are perks to being Harry fucking Potter." He reminded them calmly, pointed gaze falling onto Lucius who was snarling at him like a wild beast.

When no one said anything, Harry turned his head to murmur to Draco:

"I forgive you. I do, I _forgive_ you Draco, come on, let's just get out of here." 

He didn't get the chance to apparate them however, because Draco had started to sob into him, holding tighter, breaking down completely. 

"Oh my _god,_ I'm so sorry Harry, _Jesus Christ_, I'm so _sorry--Please--_I love you so much--just--" He was choking out through hiccups and sobs and Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry along with him. He felt so happy for the first time in months, hearing Draco say those words to him. He was probably slightly drunk from that happiness, because the next words out of his mouth were:

"_Fly _Draco. Take _the Flight_ with me. I _trust_ you." 

Hearing that, Draco had stilled completely. Slowly, he pulled back, face blotchy and tear stained as he stared at Harry beseechingly, but Harry just smiled and nodded:

"Yes, I _mean_ it. Take the Flight with me." 

A blinding smile spread on Draco's face as something ancient and deep flickered in his gray eyes, Harry's arms falling away, gripping onto Draco's shoulders instead, as Draco adjusted his grip on Harry, getting him to hop up and wrap his legs around Draco's waist, holding onto him like a koala. Harry chuckled for a moment, before Draco spread his wings wide...and took off into the air.

The Flight is a special, sacred ritual a Veela got to share with their mate. Once the pair is matched, the Veela holds their mate and flies high, soaring above the clouds, carrying their mate with them. It's a beautiful ceremony demonstrating the _trust_ between mates, not to be dropped, not to be let go of, it celebrates promise, it's an entreaty. The Flight symbolizes the completion of their bond, essentially like marriage. It can only be taken once, with their true mate, which is to say if a Veela was rebonded, the connection of the Flight would lose its potency. There is nothing quite like the love shared in these few moments.

~

When Harry had told Draco he wanted to take the Flight, Draco could have just fainted from dizziness. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten, Harry had not only _forgiven_ him, but had _asked_ to share the Flight with Draco, one of the most sacred parts of bonding with their mate. 

Draco adjusted them so Harry was wrapped around him with all four limbs, his arms tight around him, his weight barely noticeable in the face of Draco's joy. His wings spread, and he bent his knees, taking off into the air, gusting wind into the gaping faces of everyone below them. He kept pushing higher and higher, Harry gripping him tightly and laughing loudly, unrestrained. 

"Don't drop me. Don't let go of me." He snorted through his chuckles, but Draco shook his head:

"Never. _Never_ again." He muttered, one hundred percent determined to never make the same mistake again. The months they'd been apart were the most horrid thing Draco had ever lived through, dark and suffocating and now he could finally fucking breathe again.

As he pushed through the clouds, he came to float in a spot above, wings beating, his shoulderblades flexing and stretching as he kept them up. The night was beautiful and clear, the stars shining brightly, with the Moon crowning the sky like a jewel. Harry pulled back slightly to look up at the sight, a quiet reverence veiling his face, his eyes lighting up. Draco could have placed an Unbreakable Vow then and there that there has never been anything more beautiful than Harry's soft expression, adoring smile as he stared up at the stars, eyes bright and green and fucking _stunning_. His gaze met Draco's, his smile grew as he threw his head back and started laughing again:

"You fucking _dolt_." He forced in between helpless chuckles. "Stupid, stupid dramatic dolt." He leaned his forehead against Draco's, still smiling. Draco's arms tightened around him. "_My_ stupid dolt though." And he leaned forwards, pressing their lips together. 

A bone crushing relief of pressure clawed out of Draco at the simple brush of their lips, Harry's lips soft and warm against his, his chest overflowing with warmth and _love_, his own mouth working against Harry's. Everything else melted away, it didn't matter, nothing else fucking mattered because Harry had _forgiven_ him and that's all he ever needed. Harry's lips parted for the sweep of Draco's tongue, his familiar taste of chocolate assaulting Draco's sense, his scent of pine intoxicating him like nothing else ever has, or ever will.

After a moment, they parted, shivering as the cold air bit around them, the blonde's elegant white wings batting against the currents, keeping them afloat. 

In their kiss, something broke between them as their bond snapped in place, unraveled and plaited tightly between them, connecting them as one forevermore.

Slowly, Draco flew down, landing on the ground with a gentle thump, his wings aching as they dropped behind him. He placed Harry on his own two feet again, breathing heavily and flushed, but he was the happiest fucking man on Earth, and Harry seemed to mimic his joy.

"Draco! You _foolish_ boy! What have you done?" Lucius marched up to them at once, eyes blazing. "How _could_ you waste your Flight on _him_?" Just as Draco was about to snap at his father, Harry cut in:

"For the same reason Narcissa wasted hers on _you_. Love." 

Lucius scoffed:

"As if my son would ever _love_ you." 

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, squaring his shoulders:

"Be careful Lucius, Veelas are _very _protective of their _mates._ I'm sure Mrs.Malfoy can attest to that." 

Lucius flared up but a glance at Draco's dark glowering had him deflating a bit, glare intensifying on Harry:

"This isn't over Potter." He promised low, but Harry smiled his brightest at him:

"I can't wait." 

~

They were hounded with angry questions and accusations, but halfway through they'd gotten sick of explaining they loved each other and everyone else could either accept it or stuff it over and over again and had promptly just apparated away, into Harry's flat, panting against the wall they crashed into, snorting like fools when they caught their breaths.

"Think they'll horde around my place?" Harry asked as Draco pressed him into the wall, eyes dark and wide.

"Definitely. If not them, the press will." Draco nodded, lunging forward to claim Harry's lips again. The fever he'd gone through was one caused by prolonged withdrawal from his mate and a sudden reunion, and he was falling into a fever again, though a different kind of one. He kissed Harry hungrily, Harry responding just as eagerly as they stumbled to Harry's bedroom, and collapsed onto the bed, Draco on top of Harry. Harry could feel Draco was hard as a rock already, rutting against him, his own cock swelling rapidly.

"You wore that fucking suit--" Draco muttered against Harry's jaw, biting into it and moving lower, hands tearing at the suit frantically, promptly reducing it to tatters as he flung it off Harry impatiently, who was half moaning half chuckling at him:

"Wanted to prove you wrong--" The raven breathlessly replied, reaching up to mark up Draco's pale neck as he palmed him through his trousers, Draco bucking into his open hand helplessly.

"I thought I'd die from how bad I wanted you--" The blonde admitted, continuing to work over Harry desperately, entire body throbbing for him. His eyes roved up Harry's body and he froze when he saw the three deep gashes slicing Harry open from left shoulder to right hip, now freshly healed and a light pink color, the skin newly mended. His heart dropped like a stone, guilt burning hot and fervent behind his eyelids, making him choke up. A small whimper tore free from his throat, and Harry realized what was happening, sitting up quickly and cupping Draco's face with both hands, leaning in to press his forehead to Draco's, green eyes warm, mouth curled into a soft frown:

"Draco, hey, listen to me, it's okay--" He spoke in hushed murmurs, but Draco shook his head. He fucking maimed Harry how could he have--

"It's _not_ okay, oh my _god,_ I'm so sorry please--Oh my god I never--I'm so fucking sorry _Jesus Christ--_"

Harry kissed him, kissed away his tears, letting Draco's hand graze the scars.

"Don't cry, listen to me, it's _okay_, not the first scars I've ever gotten, not the worst scars I've ever gotten, I'm okay, don't think about it, come on, Draco _stay _with me." His thumbs were drawing circles on Draco's cheeks who couldn't stop staring at them. He pushed Harry onto his back gently, and kissed him again, muttering apologies into his mouth, kissing down his neck and laving the scars with kisses and licks, tracing over every inch, throat burning with the regret of it. Harry was arching into him, muttering reassurances, muttering his forgiveness, pleading and begging, fingers skimming over Draco's front down to wrap around his cock, making Draco cry out and buck into Harry's fist helplessly. 

"_God_, I want you _so much_, I could _die_ from it." Draco murmured, burying his face into Harry's hair, inhaling the smell of pine deeply, mindlessly rutting into Harry.

"Then _take_ me. _Take_ me Draco you fucking idiot." Harry purred into his ear and Draco growled animalistically, the sound guttural, operating entirely on feel and instinct now, unable to retain coherency any longer. He hurriedly prepped Harry, needing him on a _visceral_ level, before entering him in one smooth slide, breath bursting from his lungs. Harry stuttered out a moan, wrapping his legs around Draco's waist, pressing closer and rolling his hips. Draco melted as the pleasure and relief finally soothed away the constant fucking itch under his skin, the constant pulsing throb at the back of his mind. He started to move, fucking Harry leisurely, slowly, feasting his eyes on the sight of him, beautiful and flushed and fucking _his, _his _only_ for the rest of time. There would be no one, fucking no one who could take Harry away from him now, Draco had been foolish enough to make that mistake once, but never fucking again would he allow it.

"C-Can I claim you?" He breathlessly begged as his hips slowly picked up the pace, Harry's long keen music to his ears. "I want to _claim_ you as _mine--"_

"You fucking bastard of _course_ you fucking can. I'm yours, only _yours_, who else's would I _ever_ be you _prick_?" Harry mumbled, glaring halfheartedly at him and Draco smiled, and leaned over Harry, leaning closer and clamping his teeth over the tip of Harry's nose, taking a small nick out of it. 

It was interesting how magical creatures oft felt the need to claim their mates. Werewolves, for example, knotted their mates or bit down on the juncture between their neck and their shoulder, while Veelas claimed their mates either by pecking a nick out of the tip of their nose, or pierced their earlobe. 

When Draco had told Harry about it, Harry had chuckled and lamented how _'insufferably adorable'_ that was. Draco had agreed with him, the whole idea of it sounded so endearing.

Now that he'd done it, Draco's opinion was only reaffirmed, as staring at Harry's smile with a little snick across the tip of his nose where Draco had claimed him was the most disgustingly cute sight Draco had ever laid eyes upon. He grinned his own hysterical grin as he fucked Harry harder, the primal desperation in him finally winning over, and Draco started to fucking chirp, something that he hadn't expected would happen at such a moment, so he was as startled by it as Harry himself. His throat worked but no words came out, instead, all that left his throat were little chirps and hums, like a songbird. His wings had been out all this while, splayed over them, and now he completed the picture of a weird humanlike bird. Harry's grin grew as he drew Draco down into a kiss, meeting his thrusts with his hips perfectly. Draco's hand found Harry's cock, trapped between their bodies, and he began pumping him in time with the pistoning of his hips, both of them coming together, crying out each other's names.

Draco collapsed on top of Harry, wings fluttering into a calm state, draped over them, wrapping around Harry as they lay panting together.

"That's a bit dramatic don't you think?" Harry chuckled as he burrowed into the hold of Draco's wings none the less.

"I have virtually no control over them." Draco snickered, wrapping his arms around Harry too, just to feel his weight there, in them. He hadn't realized just how _badly_ he needed him back until he'd finally gotten him back. 

"That ought to scare me, considering I let you carry me hundreds of feet into the air." Harry murmured.

"Stop complaining, you're alive and here." Draco chided, smiling. 

Just as Harry was about to retort, there were footsteps outside Harry's bedroom, then the door was flung open and Ron and Hermione were bustling in, blank shock on their faces as they realized Harry was in bed with Malfoy, who had fucking wings wrapped around the both of them.

"What--" Ron managed, shielding his eyes as he flushed madly, mildly horrified. Hermione blinked, jaw gaping:

"Harry--" She tried but her sentence choked off. Harry cut in:

"Can you two leave? We'll get dressed and be there in a few." 

She nodded and dragged Ron out, the door clicking shut behind them. Harry turned to Draco, who hadn't said a single word, cheeks red with embarrassment:

"C'mon, let's go." Harry pecked him on the lips and got dressed, Draco copying him though still not saying anything, expression thunderous with concern.

Harry took his hand and led him out, into the living room where Ron and Hermione sat on the couch, looking rueful. 

"Hey." Harry spoke, as they sat down opposite them.

"It was him wasn't it?" Hermione cut in right away, gaze pointedly dropping to Harry's chest. Draco looked away, ashamed. "Don't bother lying to me Harry." She clipped and Harry swallowed and nodded tentatively:

"Yes, it was him." 

Ron's face grew red:

"Why the bloody hell didn't you tell us?!" He snapped. "The hell were you doing protecting Malfoy like that?" 

Draco swallowed thickly. He hadn't realized Harry had kept it secret. That he'd even wanted to protect Draco.

"Because I'm in love with him." Harry stated sotto voice, expression neutral.

"You--" Hermione and Ron tried at the same time, trailing off weakly. Harry waited, and grasped Draco's hand again, intertwining their fingers for emphasis.

"But he--" Ron started again, but couldn't finish the sentence, staring at their conjoined hands. "He _sliced you open_\--"

"And I did the same to him too, once. It was a just enough punishment." Harry's calm voice never wavered, and Draco's head turned around to stare at him. He considered it fitting because of what he'd done in sixth year? Draco wanted to open his mouth to object to that, but Harry's sideways glance shut him up.

"Oh Harry--are you--are you sure--?" Hermione grit out, eyeing Draco warily, and he still didn't really utter a word, didn't know what to say for himself.

"As sure as I've ever been about anything." Harry nodded, expression completely truthful, yet determined.

"Malfoy." Hermione snipped, and Draco startled at the use of his name. "Do you love Harry too?" She got right down to business, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"Yes I do. I was a bit late in realizing but--"

"A _bit_? We literally just ran away from your fucking _wedding!" _Harry exclaimed, dissolving into laughter. Draco followed suit, nose scrunching up when he thought of his father and mother and Astoria and a countless other shitshows just waiting to happen. Shitshows he didn't care about in the least, as long as he had his Harry back.

"Okay fair, _a lot_ late, but point is, I _do_ love him." Draco relented and cleared his throat, flushing when he turned his attention back to Harry's friends.

"...Wedding?" Ron asked at length, looking morbidly curious. Harry scoffed:

"The idiot actually went and agreed to marry Astoria fucking Greengrass. As if that bint could ever compare to _me_." 

Draco snorted, and shook his head fondly:

"Oh come off it, you bloody well knew no one could compare to you when you showed up to my fucking wedding wearing that bloody fucking suit I bought you--"

"Which you've ripped apart tearing it off me--"

"I'll buy you hundreds of fucking suits Harry, _anything_ you _want_\--"

_"STOP!"_ Hermione yelled at them, making them both shut up abruptly. "We _get_ it, you two are, _somehow_, in love, you don't need to make the rest of us sick." 

"I think she just called us cute in a very roundabout way." Draco murmured to Harry who snickered:

"Yeah, Hermione's barmy like that." 

Ron stared incredulously, gaping helplessly at his wife:

"Mione when have we _ever_ seen him this happy?"

Her smile softened:

"Never, really. And honestly, look how wide he's grinning, who cares if its Malfoy?" 

Ron grimaced but his face relaxed as he pondered this:

"You have a point I suppose."

~

"Oh Papa tell it again!" 

Lily muttered, her gray eyes already drifting shut after Harry had told her the story of how he meet her other Dad for the hundredth time as her bedtime story. She loved to listen to it, and she could retell it word for word by now, Harry was sure. He smiled fondly down at his daughter and swept her hair away from her face, leaning down to kiss her forehead:

"Goodnight doll." He muttered before softly slipping out, clicking the door to her bedroom shut. He returned to the living room where Draco was watching the telly, splayed over the couch. Harry picked up his legs and sat down, dropping his feet into his lap, mindlessly starting to rub them. Draco groaned and dropped his head back:

"Was it our story again?" He asked and Harry snorted but nodded:

"Yes. I swear she knows it better than us by now." 

Draco smiled lazily:

"Well it _is_ fabulous." 

Harry chuckled:

"Oh yes, the tale of The Epic Wedding Crash And An Idiot Veela In Denial. A truly riveting tale."

Draco flushed and rolled his eyes, though his fond smile stayed on his lips:

"Like I said, _fabulous._"

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> all of the veela lore and information in this fic is completely my ideas and made up by me, so if there is anything canonical perhaps that contradicts it feel free to point it out
> 
> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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